Page 76 of Destined to the Lycan
“No, I don’t. What do you smell?” he asked in a neutral tone.
“It’s the same scent as Amara’s sickness, but it’s… I don’t know… purer?”
He nodded slowly, his eyes locked with mine, the vertical slit of his pupils appearing even narrower.
“But you knew that, didn’t you?” I asked, my anger flaring.
“No, I didn’t. But I suspected you might find something here the moment you said the Weaver sent you to fetch something in the workshop. She never speaks pointlessly. Every sentence has a purpose,” he said with a shrug.
I growled in frustration then shifted my focus back to the scent. It appeared to emanate from under the cauldron. I moved it out of the way and examined the fire pit beneath but found nothing unusual. As the scent was undeniably stronger thecloser I got to the floor, it could only mean that the source lay hidden underneath it. However, try as I might, I failed to find any switch, recess, or lever that would reveal the secret cache.
Seeing the doppelganger idly standing by observing me pissed me off to no end. Was he truly not assisting me because of the Covenant, or did he just enjoy watching me run around like an idiot to no avail?
“Is this damn thing poisoning her again?” I asked, suddenly struck by that frightening thought. “Is it poisoningus?”
“You placed the Weaver’s necklace around Amara’s neck. The Wraith’s lock didn’t glow. Therefore, she’s not in any danger right now. If my suspicions around the source are correct, then it is currently harmless to anyone.”
I emitted another frustrated sound before resuming my search. As I doubted Amara would be aware of its existence, I speculated that the switch would be located in a place she was unlikely to frequently interact with. Glancing around the room, I spotted four potential areas, three of which were the vacant spaces beneath the shelves on the right side of the door. They were just high enough to store a pair of shoes.
But the fourth spot called to me the most. It was a heavy piece of furniture, shaped almost like a giant cradle on four legs at each extremity. It appeared to be made of bronze or copper. Either way, it was the type of thing you would hate having to move around, and definitely not something Amara would be able to lift on her own. It contained what resembled various sculpted molds and casings, some made of wood, others out of metal, to give her candles those stunning, unique shapes. Along the edge of the cradle, a single bar on the front and sides allowed her to hang ornate chains and woven strings, which would likely be used on the still warm wax to apply elegant patterns.
Those chains and strings created a curtain that hid a far more accessible space beneath. I headed straight for it and carefullypushed the chains and strings to the side. There was nothing there, the stone pavers on the floor as unremarkable as the others that covered the remainder of the room. Still, I leaned forward to run my hand over the back wall in case there was something I couldn’t see from this angle. But as soon as my hand rested on the floor for support, my overly sensitive ears picked up a subtle grinding sound.
I leaned back to look at the floor. None of the tiles seemed loose, the grout filling the gaps seamlessly around each paver. I pressed again, the sound weaker or stronger depending on where I applied pressure. The tile still didn’t move but seemed to be spread over at least six pavers. After a few more attempts, I realized that the sound varied from one time to the next when I pushed again on a given area. It took me a moment to understand that I had to press each stone in a specific sequence.
It made sense as, if a single pressure had been required to activate the switch, it could have accidentally revealed the secret cache simply by moving a piece of furniture. But the sequence demanded a deliberate and calculated effort. Without my enhanced hearing, I would never have noticed this. And even then, not knowing there might be a hidden mechanism, had I simply stepped on it, I wouldn’t have paid it much attention and assumed the floor had shifted over time, like the squeaking sounds from the hardwood floors and stairs.
It took me only a few attempts to figure out the combination, the sound steadily increasing from one pressure to the next until a grinding sound in my back startled me. I spun around to see a small section of pavers lowering into the floor next to the fire pit. I hastened there, and my jaw dropped upon seeing a bouquet of reddish flowers. At first, I thought they were Gloriosa flowers, also commonly referred to as Flame Lilies. They were as beautiful as they were lethal. However, their swirling stems and flowy leaves marked them as a different species of plants.
“What the fuck is that?” I asked.
Lyall casually approached, looked inside the small secret nook, then crouched before it to reach for the flowers. On instinct, I grabbed his wrist to stop him while giving him a ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ look. He seemed taken aback by my protective gesture before smirking again in that obnoxious fashion of his.
“Careful, pup. Or I may think you’re starting to care about me,” he said tauntingly before freeing his wrist from my grasp. “Like I said, if my suspicions were right, then the source was currently harmless. And my suspicionswereright.”
He gathered the flowers then stood back up while admiring them. To my dismay, he lifted them to his nose before deeply inhaling their perfume. He glanced at me and chuckled at my flabbergasted expression.
“These flowers are called Lover’s Blight. They’re the netherworld’s version of the Flame Lilies,” he explained casually. “And they are indeed what caused Amara’s sickness.”
“So why are you saying they’re harmless right now,” I asked, my voice thick with tension.
“Because they only become lethal once they are burnt,” he said, glancing at the fire pit. “Great heat causes a chemical reaction within them, which then releases an odorless toxic fume. Otherwise, they’re just pretty decorative plants that you can safely breathe in.”
“So the fumes would be released every time Amara melted wax in her cauldron,” I whispered in shocked understanding. “But who would do this? And why?”
He stared at me without answering. I clamped down on the urge to claw his pretty face off and returned my attention to the flowers. I frowned as another thought crossed my mind.
“If the flowers must be heated or burnt to release the fumes, these ones should be shriveled up. But they look fresh,” I challenged.
“Quite fresh,” he concurred. “Whoever is doing this still has access to the house and replaced the flowers in her absence. My guess is that they were brought here three or four days ago, right before I arrived with Amara.”
“If you suspected all this, why didn’t you search the house?” I spat angrily.
He gave me a bored and annoyed look that pissed me off further.
“How many times will I have to remind you that I am bound by the Covenant? For what it’s worth, although I suspected these would be inside the house, I thought they would be in the kitchen or by the hearth in her bedroom. Putting it here instead was clever and diabolical.”
I mumbled a series of curses at that wretched Covenant and their stupid mind games.
